


Rays of Sunlight

by Thenotemo



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Dreams, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:20:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23583733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thenotemo/pseuds/Thenotemo
Summary: "The second feature he notices, are his eyes, they are an opaque green, they lack life, like a thick, glossy swamp, rich in algae."A hopeless Lovino Vargas has an encounter with fate, one that changed his life.
Relationships: England & South Italy (Hetalia), Germany/North Italy (Hetalia), Minor or Background Relationship(s), South Italy/Spain (Hetalia)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	Rays of Sunlight

**Author's Note:**

> ok so I got bored and I thought about dynamics between my two favourite characters, I now bestow upon you, this trainwreck.

Lovino curls up tighter under the covers, screwing his eyes shut and ignoring the alarm. The jaunty Tarantella is piercing his ears, he only wants it to stop. He lifts his arm, his flesh feeling like lead, and blindly swats at his phone, hoping that with enough taps, he would successfully find the snooze button. After feeling around to no avail, he gets up slowly, his eyes feeling dusty and dry, and stretches his arm out, his fingers just about touching the cool glass of his cracked iPhone. The music stops, leaving the air still in its wake. Suddenly the world feels all too quiet, all too cold. His sad hazel eyes dart up to his window, he sees nothing but the dreary London sky. He silently curses the British weather. The sky is crying again.

Today is not a good day. Since moving to London all those years ago, he has had many days like these. It was true that many things had happened since then, his life warping beyond recognition, yet he feels as if the weather only intensifies his feelings of dread. He knows that if he was in Italy, he’d be a lot happier, not completely whole, but a lot happier. At least the sight of the sun would give him a reason to get out of bed.

His bare feet hit the cold linoleum floor, his steps making little fleshy thwacks. He walks towards his tiny fridge and opens it, the smell of week-old dinner assaulting his nose. He opens the vegetable tray sighing when he only sees a mouldy carrot and a shrivelled turnip. He sighs again sadly and takes a seat on his counter, suddenly feeling devoid of energy.

In all his tired wallowing, he forgot to buy tomatoes.

Usually, he would grow his own tomatoes, those days, however, now slip through his fingers like water, pale and shimmering in the moonlight as if they were a dream from long ago. Lovino’s apartment was much too small, the weather much too cold and his patience much too thin for tomatoes. He buys them instead. His teeth sinking into the bland, slightly plastic curve of the tomato. It’s all he can get.

This is how he finds himself walking on the pavement, his coat embracing him tightly, it does nothing to warm the sensation in his chest. Those feelings of dread pool in his stomach, it’s liquid tendrils enveloping his body, from his toes to the back of his mouth. He can taste the acid in his throat. He pushes those anxieties away. He has a task at hand.

It isn’t long before he sees the Lidl sign in the distance. His feet pick up the pace and he gets closer before passing through the automated door. A whoosh of hot air hits him and he is greeted with the smell of the bakery. He is momentarily tempted to buy a bottle of wine, something to treat himself with, yet he can’t bring himself to do it. He huffs and walks to the fruit and veg aisle.

He buys the tomatoes and picks up some pasta. His heart suddenly yearns for that wine and he stops, looking back, he sees no Lidl sign, it is too late. Perhaps it is a sign from God.

On the journey back, Lovino preoccupies himself with fleeting thoughts, yet his mind seems to gravitate towards one thing and one thing only. Lidl is a German store, Feliciano’s boyfriend is German. Feli.

He misses his brother so much that it hurts, most nights, his phone will usually be clasped in his hand and he will try, yet he can’t bring himself to call. Many questions go through his head, so do many excuses, he doesn’t know what he would say to his brother, nor would he want to burden him. These past couple of months, Feliciano has barely called him, most likely being too busy in Germany with Ludwig, while he feels offended, Lovino is somewhat glad, talking to his brother can get very draining. Then again, he wasn’t exactly the most interesting person to talk to.

Sometimes his loneliness becomes suffocating. His neighbour Antonio visits, his warm comforting presence and beautiful toothy smile makes him feel warm, safe. Kindness, however, is something that Lovino is not well acquainted with, when Antonio leaves, those warm butterflies turn to stone. The first thing he does is sleep.

Occasionally, he wonders what would happen if he died. He wonders if anyone would care. The petty, cruel part of him hopes that with his death, those around him would feel so guilty for letting him feel this way. He stands still, shocked at what he is thinking. He needs a break.

He finds a blue bench, its paint chipping, conveniently tucked away in a rickety old playground. He sits on it, hissing as the rusting iron sends icy pricks through his behind. He quickly gets used to it and sits there, twiddling his thumbs, letting the rain pitter-patter against his hood. He doesn’t notice his surroundings until a blond man takes a seat next to him.

He looks at the man from the corner of his eyes. The first thing he notices about the man is his monstrous eyebrows. They are huge and they eclipse most of his forehead. The second feature he notices are his eyes. His eyes are an opaque green, they lack life, like a thick glossy swamp, rich in algae. His eyes may be dead, but they make Lovino feel more alive than he’s been in months

“Hello, lad.” The man takes out a cigar and uses a matchstick to light it. Lovino looks to him, mildly interested.

“Hello.” He says, entranced. It starts to rain harder but neither of them move to get up.

“Italian eh?” His British accent flows like honey. While smooth, it sticks. Lovino wonders how he found out so quickly. His defensive side gets the better of him.

“What’s it to you?” He hisses. The man holds his hands up in defeat and his murky eyes light up for a second as he chuckles. Lovino’s fire is starting to flare up. It's been so long since he had someone truly make him feel like that.

“Calm down lad, feisty one aren’t you,” he pauses, looking far beyond the conifers in front of them, “so, what are you doing out here, in the sodding rain?”

“‘Should be asking you the same question.” Lovino mumbles from under the safety of his coat.

“Look, Lovino, I want to give you a miracle.” The tone of his voice changes. Lovino stops. His head whipping towards the man. He starts to panic, his mind runs back and forth like a broken record, reeling and spinning and falling far, far away from his grasp.

“H-how do you know my name?” His voice is less intimidating than he wants it to be, he is too blinded by fear and confusion to become angry.

“I know that you and your brother moved here five years ago after your grandfather died. You attended university here, barely scraping by, I know that your brother moved to Germany three years ago, I know that you have a neighbour named Antonio.”

“What do you want from me?” Lovino stands up, trembling. His shopping bag lays abandoned at his feet. The man faces him, his thick eyebrows knit together and his eyes shine with a ferocious passion.

“I know you want a miracle.”

The ground trembles beneath them and Lovino panics, he instinctively holds on to the arm offered to him. The trembling does not cease and eventually, mounds of earth fall through, leaving holes of light in the ground. Lovino cannot breathe. The wind is gushing in his ears and the rain sounds like bullets, they pelt him. He tries to flee, but is held in the mans iron grip. The ground that they are standing on falls through. And so do they.

They fall through the light, the man’s arms are wrapped tightly around him. Lovino struggles in his grip to no avail. The light starts to get brighter and brighter, Lovino can’t look away, he feels no pain.

They fall into the sky. Lovino’s worries are soothed and he even finds himself embracing the other man. The sun is shining, its rays bless him with a warmth, one so familiar, yet so foreign. The blue sky looks vast, it ranges from a gentle cornflower, to a baby blue. He smiles and faces the man.

“What are you?”

“I am Arthur.” That answer, oddly enough, is all that Lovino needs.

They fly around the sky, driven by some invisible force. They do loop-ity loops. They turn upside down and spin around, feeling the air hit them. Lovino realises that they cannot see the ground below. There is a vast cloud that hides the people, the roads, the sea and the trees away. Lovino points at it, noticing the clarity that Arthur’s eyes finally had in the sun.

“You want to go down there?”

“Is that even a fucking question?!” He smiles and laughs and expresses himself the only way he knows how.

They go down, the rain starts to hit their back but Lovino doesn’t care. The suddenly get a view of the river Thames and he realises that they’re in London. Cold, rainy London. Beautiful, diverse London. He starts to cry, his fingers press into Arthur’s heavy coat, if the blond minds, he doesn’t say, and Lovino is glad for that.

“Remember,” Arthur says, shouting over the whip of the wind, “no matter how cloudy it looks from below, the sun is always there up above, it always will be.” Lovino ponders his words, staying silent, he is content, simply flying through the sky in the company of that man.

Their journey comes to an end after a while passes, Lovino is disappointed as they slowly descend from the sky back onto the deserted park ground. Lovino feels a gum wrapper in his pocket after letting go of Arthur. He takes it and puts it into the blond’s palm. He hopes that Arthur remembers him.

“I want to stay like this forever.” He says, he unbuttons Arthur’s coat and is greeted with an old-fashioned suit, looking almost victorian in cut.

“Nothing ever lasts forever,” Arthur replies, smiling slightly. He turns to leave.

“No, wait,” Lovino yells, “are you a time traveller?!” Arthur turns and chuckles, that deep throaty laugh.

“I am Arthur.”

Lovino wrinkles his nose and breathes, feeling icy air fill his lungs. He opens his eyes in a panic, searching for the man. He isn’t there. Lovino figures that he must’ve fallen asleep on the park bench. It must be a dream, yet he cannot will himself to believe that. It is getting dark now, hues of twilight are staining the sky, their periwinkle claws blocking the sun. he takes a moment to compose himself before picking up his shopping bag. He walks in the opposite direction to his flat.

Lidl is still open. It is very quiet when Lovino walks in, the scent of the bakery isn’t the same, the goods have long since cooled down. He picks up the bottle of wine and smiles at the cashier who blushes in return. He walks out of Lidl and starts the journey home.

The second time he comes across the park, he only gives it a glance, he is too scared to look at it any longer, too scared of what he will find. He hurries along, it is getting dark now. The dark is dangerous in London.

When he enters the building, he walks past his home and instead, stops at Antonio’s. He knocks on the door and waits. And waits. And waits.

Antonio is not at home. Lovino does not let this deter him. He feels stronger than that. He enters his flat, takes off his coat and shoes and surveys his purchases.

Tomatoes, pasta, wine and tomato seeds. He smiles, grabs two glasses and pours the wine.

“This one’s for you.” He says and raises the glass in a silent toast. He drinks his own, downing the cheap wine. His Nonno would be disappointed. Then, he smiles, takes his phone and dials a certain number.

“Ciao, Feli, how are you?” He says.

No one will ever know what happened this day. Something calls to him, appealing him to keep his encounter secret. He will honour Arthurs wishes. He will take him to his grave.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, leave a comment, if you didn't, then also please leave a comment, or not. Whatever suits you best. :)


End file.
